Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
SAM
Rome, Italy – May
Internazionali BNL d’Italia
It probably made me seem very dedicated to the sport that the moment I touched down in Rome, late after a whole host of flight delays, I went straight to site.
It wasn’t dedication that got me there.
It was Naomi.
She had been on court for half an hour when I finally slipped in next to Alisha.
“Welcome, Samuel. As you can see, she’s been very productive since she’s been on court,” she said quietly.
I looked at the scoreboard. She was five–love up and serving for the first set. Her opponent looked like a woman defeated already.
“The Tuscan sun clearly did her a world of good.”
Alisha smiled. “Yeah, nearly a month of doing nothing has a way of revitalising you.”
It was my turn to smile. “Can’t relate. I was too busy winning a Masters.”
Naomi served a second ace and took it to set point.
“Congrats on that, by the way. You looked good.”
Game and first set, Naomi Sullivan.
“Probably not as good as her right now,” I said with a nod towards the court where Naomi was covering her face with an ice towel.
“It’s very hard to be as good as her when she’s on her game,” Wyatt chipped in. “Nice to see you. Straight from the airport by the looks of things,” he added.
“I didn’t really have any other choice, what with the fact that the people I’m living with are all here and I don’t have a way to get into the house.”
“Touché. We can take your stuff back to the house, and when Mimi is done here for the day, you can have her.”
I tried to keep it off my face how much hearing those words made me feel like I was soaring, but given the way Wyatt’s face broke out into a knowing grin, I clearly wasn’t successful.
Twenty-two minutes later, Naomi won the match, and I went to wait for her in the players lounge.
Naomi’s face brightened when she saw me sitting there, half-reading something on my phone, and she dropped down into the seat next to me, her thigh pressed up against mine.
Her hair was out of its match braids, and the curls were cascading over her shoulders.
She was wearing a dark purple oversized T-shirt that I was sure had been mine at some point while we were in Australia, but as with most things, it looked better on her.
I couldn’t see them, but she was probably wearing matching shorts.
Post-match Naomi was one of my favourite versions of her.
She was equal parts chilled out and euphoric.
If we weren’t on site, I’d be pulling her onto my lap and kissing the soft smile off her face.
“Hey, babe,” she said as I locked my phone, briefly placing a hand on my lower thigh.
“Someone wasn’t messing around today.”
“Yeah, well, when you decide to take nearly a month off and miss out on the first round bye, you’ve gotta make a statement,” she shot back easily.
“That you did. Fun fact, we’re in Rome.”
“Really? I had no idea!”
“You know what happened last time we both happened to be in Rome at the same time?”
She tapped her plump bottom lip like she was deep in thought. “I was minding my business and was immediately reminded as to why I don’t wear white outside of Wimbledon?”
I squeezed her thigh, my little finger teasing the hem of her shorts. “Yes. That. But we were basically strangers then. The only thing we knew about each other was our tennis stats.”
“Young hotshot and old hag,” she cut in teasingly.
“If your current string of stats makes you an old hag, then we’re all fucked. Anyway, your day is now free, my day is free…Seems like a good day to go on a date in Rome. I’ll buy you gelato.”
She rested her head on my shoulder and let out a long sigh. “I suppose I can let you buy me gelato.” She trailed off into a light laugh.
We ate gelato as we wandered around the streets, our fingers brushing until they finally tangled together.
Naomi dragged me to the Trevi Fountain even though neither of us had a penny.
She loved water fountains, and seeing her joy at watching it for a few minutes made me want to tell her I loved her.
I’d been wanting to do it for a while now.
When she was slightly tipsy from drinking tequila in Indian Wells.
When she’d served a second serve ace out wide and flicked one of her braids back into place with a look on her face that could only be described as cocky in Miami.
When she’d sent me a photo of her in that T-shirt I gave her in this very city when she was in Charleston.
Literally every time she sent me a photo of her looking sundrenched when she was in Tuscany. Which was at least once a day.
Naomi turned away from the fountain. She pushed her hair off her face, only for it to fall straight back across her eyes, and smiled at me. The sun was warming her skin and showcasing the subtle blonde highlights that appeared the longer she spent in the sun. Her smile was bright and carefree.
“I love you,” I said before I could stop myself.
She pushed her hair back again, keeping her hand there so it didn’t fall forward. The hem of her T-shirt pulled up, and I could see the bottom of her shorts. Her eyebrows were pinched together.
“Well, shit,” she said quietly. Her hair fell back over her face as she let it go and stepped towards me, pressing both her hands against my chest. My arms automatically wrapped around her waist and pulled her in closer.
A part of me started to panic as the silence stretched.
Maybe I should’ve held onto those three words for a bit longer.
“I love you, too,” she said quietly. Reverently.
Before relief could flood through me, her lips were pressed against mine, and I sank into it.
The kiss was slow. Languid and easy. Something I associated with all our kisses.
For someone so intense on court, Naomi’s approach to the rest of her life was relaxed, and that carried over to the way she kissed.
It was like we had all the time in the world, even though in this particular moment, we were standing near one of the busiest spots in the world.
Eventually, we broke apart, and our foreheads pressed together.
“What a fucking year,” Naomi said with a laugh.